


Killing Feels Good to the Maker Too

by DestructiveEmpathy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestructiveEmpathy/pseuds/DestructiveEmpathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Making a deal with the Grey Wardens was never going to be simple. Jack only ever has two things on his mind: Killing Darkspawn and catching the Maleficar that killed his recruit. Chasind Wilder William seems like the perfect chance for justice, but his gifts come at a price... It's not only demons who want the boy's mind, but a dangerous noble.</p><p>(Rated for later chapters.) </p><p>Due to a long hiatus, I'm going through and editing the story. The plot is not changing in any way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wilder

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._

_Benedictions 4:10_

   
  
During the Fifth Blight, rumors of The Wildman of the Dales spread across Orlais. Eight years had passed and already rumors had turned to myth. A humble Chasind boy had become a savage spirit reaping justice for nature. It had Jack wondering how people could twist the truth so much. The 'Wildman' had just been a boy when he'd left him. Now he'd be a man. Jack knew he'd never become an abomination - he was too good.   
  
Jack sat staring into the fire as its orange light licked his face. He kept his fingers busy by whittling the shaft of an arrow. All the while he let images of William the Wilder cross the forefront of his mind. His travelling companions didn't mind his silence. It was the usual.   
  
The Dales were unsafe, but their group of four seasoned soldiers were more than capable of facing off any threats. It struck Jack that William had been just a boy when he'd left him here. How could he have survived all alone? If the stories had continued beyond William's death, that meant they would be leaving empty-handed. No. William was alive.   
  
Jack couldn't sleep, so took the first watch. It gave him the chance to revise their tactics. He needed to collect on William's debt, then turn to Val Royeaux for leads. The templars had warned that the apostate had started another spree. This was Jack's chance to close in on them. The Ripper would be caught.   
  
The group woke up to the bitter cold of a pure white morning. While Beverly was the first up, she was also had the foulest temper. It took one of Jimmy's Antivan brews to keep her from killing someone. Brian woke up with just a kick to the ribs.   
  
“Jack, you don’t look so good,” Beverly said, as she sipped her coffee.   
  
Jack simply huffed into his own drink. His eyes kept to the horizon.   
  
“Ah, ignore him. He’ll be fine once we return to the city.” Jimmy seemed to be as cheerful as ever. But appearances were deceiving. He just wanted to get this fool's errand over and done with. Unlike Jack, Jimmy's focus was on Darkspawn.  
  
Brian had already started to pack their camp up. Every little thing made him huff or grumble. More than one pack was slammed down on the grass. “I still don’t understand why we’re all the way out here, anyway. It’s not like this man’s going to be that much of a help. I mean, come on! He’s living in the Dales with a lot of creepy stories flying around. If anything, we should be killing him or sending him to the Templars.”  
  
Jack scowled and placed the mug down on the dew-drenched grass. “Tell me, Brian, what exactly have you heard about him? Hm? Hearsay from some tavern wench who sat on your lap two nights before last?”  
  
Brian stood staring at Jack, silent for a good long while until he finally said, “I-I didn’t mean anything by it Warden-Constable.”  
  
“Good.” Jack shook the dew from himself and sheathed his sword. “Finish packing. We should reach the shack before midday.”  
  
The others followed his orders with little argument. Jack was as stubborn as a Qunari and just as devout to his beliefs.  
  
They set off back into the open fields where the only sounds were those that they were making. War after war had destroyed this place for any sane man. Demons and undead ravaged what once were beautiful, vast fields. The creak of their armour and clink of their swords against their legs echoed off of every hill, mountain and rock outcropping. The air of death was almost as draining as any battlefield. As morale began to die, Jimmy tried to perform small tricks for the others. Jack put a stop to that the moment he discovered it.   
  
After a good few hours trekking with worn feet and sore backs, they finally caught sight of a lone shack. It sat amongst the ruins of an ancient - and long since dead - empire. The twisted walls looked rotten and the roof was made from scraps of red fabric. The familiar deathly silence still hung over it. Jack started to bury his hope that the stories had been true.   
  
Everyone placed their hands on their hilts as they approached the building. There was something off about it. While everything was in disrepair, someone could have lived there. Logs were piled up outside of the door and the fire pit was still full of ash. The crab cages glistened in the sunlight and the fishing spears were neatly organised outside. Someone did live here.   
  
Placing a hand on the slightly mossy shack walls, Jimmy examined it for any human life.  “It looks like an aravel,” Jimmy said, sounding as if he almost admired it. Something inside was definitely alive.   
  
“Shh!” Jack pressed closer to the door and peered through. Yellowing brown eyes glared back at him. "Wolves!" Jack stepped back and drew his blade.   
  
“Maker, I told you we should’ve just left this for the Templars.” As smug as he sounded, Brian gripped his blade a little too-tightly.   
  
“Grow up, Brian, look,” Beverly said, as she stepped forwards and opened the door. The wolf padded out, suspicious of its visitors. “They’re tame. Keep acting like a Nug in a snowstorm, and people might forget you kill Darkspawn.”  
  
Leaving the group with the wolf, Jack investigated the inside of the shack. It was full of all sorts - likely scavenged from the abandoned villages nearby. It seemed that, whoever lived there, was re-purposing everything piece by piece. If they wanted to, it was highly likely they'd be able to live out there eternally without any help. Jack ran his fingers over one of the many misshapen instruments, picking a tune from a fat lute.   
  
The soft slap of water lapping against wood dragged him from his thoughts. Stepping out, Jack noticed a man dragging a boat onto shore. He was relatively clean, with golden skin, a thick mess of hair and the biggest blue eyes. A boy like him should never have survived alone this long.    
  
Jack approached as if he were a wild hound. “William?”  
  
The man startled at the noise and fell back, covering himself with muck from the shore. “Sod it!” Will looked down at himself. It was hard enough to keep clean out here. “Go away.”  
  
“No. The Wardens need to speak with you.”  
  
Now that caught Will’s attention. With the man closer each second, his eyes grew wider. “Jack, right? ”  
  
Jack smiled and nodded. “You remember me?”  
  
“I remember a lot of people, Jack. You're just the one who saved me from the Darkspawn.”  
  
“Then you remember your promise, too?”  
  
Will’s eyes shot up from their place on Jack’s griffon crest to his face. “I never meant it. You know I didn’t. I can barely hold a bow, for Andraste’s sake. I can’t help your lot at all.”  
  
“We both know that’s not true, don't we?” Jack continued to smile, finally in the presence of someone who could do the job he needed them for. “You can see things others can’t.”  
  
Will crossed his arms and leaned against a fractured wall. “You have mages that can do it better than me. Maker knows, there might even be dwarves with the ability.” He knew it was untrue. Dwarves had no connection to the Fade.  
  
“No one I have ever heard of can do it as well as you. Your gift… it can help.” Jack moved closer, chest out and eyes hard. “‘Magic exists to serve man...’”  
  
“It’s not magic. It’s an accident. And you can’t use an incomplete verse, Jack. It doesn’t work like that.” Will began to move toward his house. “If you want my help, ask. When I reject it, leave.”  
  
Jack almost growled under his breath. This boy wouldn’t help when he'd once longed for an opportunity like this. “William, help me catch the Maleficar that killed my recruit.” Jack never let anyone make him feel this way. Not commanders nor kings. William would not have the satisfaction. “They’ll kill again. It’s only a matter of time.”  
  
Will pushed off of the wall and let out one low sigh. His eyes trailed off of Jack's nose and into the distance.  “One condition: You assist me in catching a killer called 'The Shrike'.” He turned to Jack with a stone cold expression. “Help me catch him and I’m all yours.”


	2. The Shadow

_In the absence of light, shadows thrive_

_Threnodies 8:21_

The journey to Val Royeaux was far more trying than anyone had expected, much less Will. He hated every minute of the long and, frankly, damp trek. He was particularly irritated by the fact he’d had to send the wolves to their special cove, where they’d live until he returned. The only canine that remained by his side was Winston, his Mabari warhound he’d had since the Blight. A useful ally, when Will knew his archery skills were certainly lacking Beverly’s technique.

He’d seen a demonstration of it when they faced a few bandits on the road. She was there, her recurve bow drawn and each arrow whistling through the air. Will barely managed to stick a single man before the others had finished them or Winston had torn their throat out. Well, Will _had_ said that he was no good in battle.

Brian had seemed to take an immediate dislike to the boy. He’d compare his prowess in battle to Will’s and always deemed himself superior. He’d make biting comments about how Will just had to be an apostate. No matter how much Beverly tried, nothing would hide Brian’s distaste. So Jimmy made up for his friend’s hostility with brotherly side-hugs and jokes at Brian’s expense.

Jack remained stoic throughout the journey. He had to come up with a strategy. Gain the names and appearances of every girl taken and from where. He knew there was one person with access to all of it, and hoped there was a way to gain an audience with him. After all, Comte Lecter had become a sickly man in recent years.

After several nights of uncomfortable sleep on a long and dangerous road, they finally arrived at Val Royeaux. If ever-clean Jimmy was in an uncharacteristic state of dishevelment, Will was an utter state. His shaped stubble had become something of a true Wilder beard, and his face was a muddy green. It was a wonder they were even allowed in the city like that.

“I still don’t know why Jack won’t let us use inns once in a while,” Brian said as he stomped the dirt onto the otherwise pristine bridge.

Though Will knew the statement wasn’t meant for him, he decided to speak. “People don’t take too kindly to unknown soldiers ‘commandeering’ their small villages.”

“And it’s cheaper,” Beverly said.

“And louder,” Jimmy added.

“Or maybe it’s because I didn’t see any on the way here?” Jack interrupted the group’s thoughts. He stopped and turned to face them when they reached the gates. “Okay. While I have an audience with Comte Lecter, I want Beverly to gather information. Brian, you’re on supplies duty.”

Brian groaned and nodded. He always got the dog’s body work.

“And Jimmy, I want you to take Will to the market. Find him armour, decent clothes and then get him cleaned up.” The distaste in Jack’s voice was nothing compared to the horrified glares Will was receiving by passing Orlesians.

When the group parted, Jimmy took Will’s hand and dragged him around. First, he bought a pack for him. Large and weatherproof enough to carry anything a traveller needed.

“You know, I love things like this,” Jimmy said as he picked out a pair of breeches for Will. Short tunics were all well and good in the wild, but decent society dictated there should be at least some leg covered. “Being able to piece an outfit –a style- together.” He picked a pair of tight, light beige breeches.

Will raised an eyebrow and wondered about the manoeuvrability. He was certain the gold stitching was unnecessary. “I take it you’re from here?”

Jimmy bought a matching brown tunic. “Oh no. I’m from a little village in the Free Marches.” He bought some other outfits that seemed to suit Will’s unique style and moved onto another stall.

“But why are you with Jack?” Will hurried to his side.

“Because when I was a boy, I accidentally conjured an earthquake that ate my whole village. I was left in the rubble and a passing Warden took pity on me.” Jimmy was smelling soaps and perfumes as if the tale held little trauma. “They trained me in Weisshaupt and I became the lead Mage-Warden.” A title they had created for his benefit, but he wasn’t one to gloat. “When Jack asked my assistance, I gave him it.”

Will licked his lips and glanced around to think on his words. He’d heard tales of the Wardens. How they were all recruited for immense skill and how they never needed training. The Warden that saved Jimmy had been out of the ordinary. Perhaps he could feel the same power radiate from Jimmy as Will did… or that he just took pity on a boy. He’d never know without prying too deep.

Jimmy hummed softly as he found the perfect scents. Straightening out, he made Will smell some soap crystals. “What do you think of these?”

Reluctantly, Will smelled the crystals and frowned. They were just like any other soap to him. He preferred to use herbs and flowers found in the Dales. Sometimes he could trade with Dalish caravans. “I guess… it will do,” he tried not to offend Jimmy too much, but that required a lot of effort on his part.

“They will do? Maker, Will, you’re going to be the belle of the ball with these.” Jimmy turned and paid for them. The price was up into the sovereigns. Sovereigns! Will never paid that much for anything unless it was to do with the pack.

“What ball?”

Jimmy laughed and shook his head. “It’s a new saying the Orlesian court have coined. Come, we have to stop you smelling like fishy dogs.”

The mage guided Will to the Orlesian baths. A grand marble building with heated pools split for men and women. Nobility and the rest. There were stalls even in here, selling Orlesian cotton bathrobes and finger food.

Will thanked the Maker Orlesians didn’t wander around nude, and that each bath had its own room. Group baths, singular baths… it was prepared for everyone.

Somehow, Jimmy had managed to get them a private room in the noble’s wing. He got the water started and poured the bath crystals in. “Let them disappear before climbing in. And please make sure you get every nook and cranny. Smell finds itself in the most unexpected places.”

Jimmy took his leave, allowing Will privacy to bathe. He stepped into the hot water and settled down with a soft groan. To feel the heat soothe his muscles and wash away the mud and sweat from his skin was a blessing that surely came from the Maker himself.

*******

Across the city, Jack stood in the grand entrance of one of Comte Lecter’s stunning chateaux. Jack wasn’t a man who took much stock in aesthetics, but his Bella once had. Perhaps that was why he always paid close attention to the world’s beauty now.

“Je m'excuse pour le retard,” said a voice from the top of the grand staircase. “You must be Monsieur Crawford?” A man of Jack’s age descended the marble steps. “I am afraid my uncle shall not be taking audience with anyone for at least a week.”

“You are Lord Hannibal?” Jack bowed slightly to show respect. “I respect your uncle’s need for rest, but this is of great importance.”

Hannibal quirked a small smile and guided the Grey Warden to one of the parlours. “Perhaps I can be of assistance in his stead?”

Jack shook his head as he followed a few paces behind.  “Not unless you have his connections, I’m afraid.”

Pouring them both a fine Tevinter wine, Hannibal passed a semi-filled crystal glass to Jack. “On the contrary, I have more connections than the Comte. And if you’ll indulge me, I may have the answers you need.” He settled down in a dark wood chair, one that could’ve been a throne in the past.

Jack followed suit, seating himself on the less-imposing couch. “My men and I are hunting a killer of girls. He’s been travelling around and taking them from their villages.”

“And why is this of concern to the Grey Wardens?” Hannibal took a slow sip of his wine.

Settling so his back was pressed against the back of the couch, Jack sighed. “A potential recruit demands this as one last act of freedom, or something similar.”

Now that caught Hannibal’s interest. Placing his glass down, he clasped his hands together in his lap. “And how is this recruit so skilled that it puts him above all others, Jack?”

“I don’t think I should say.”

“A mage then? Fear not, Jack. I will not tell anyone of this recruit.” Hannibal took the glass back in hand to feign disinterest. “But returning to the request at hand… I shall look into the details of girls and their disappearances. You wish for names and places, yes?”

Jack nodded and took a drink of his wine. “As much intel as you can gather, please.” He hated asking things of others. At least with the old Comte he didn’t have to reduce himself to pleasantries. Old friends never did, after all.

“Then it shall be done.” Hannibal stood and placed his wine back down. “I am holding a masquerade tonight. I should have the information by then, if you wish to come. My men will know you. Your travelling companions are welcome too.”

Following suit, Jack stood too and followed Hannibal back to the exit. “I thank you, my Lord.”

“Please, call me Hannibal.”

Hannibal watched as the Grey Warden left, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth. Jack’s recruit was certainly an interesting sounding person. He wondered what drove them to make such a deal with a strong-willed man. Of course, Hannibal had much to do before he met them.

 


	3. Masks

_With passion'd breath does the darkness creep._

_It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep._

_Transfigurations 1:5_

 

“Wait, what? Jack, that means dresses. I hate dresses,” Beverly spoke up. “And there are going to be spies everywhere. We’ll end up dead by the end of the night.”

Will cut in, “And there’s people just generally. There’s a reason I live in the Dales, Jack.” He stopped talking the moment Jimmy slapped his thigh and told him to stop fidgeting. Shaving a Mabari would apparently be easier.

Growling, Jack rubbed his eyes. “You are all going to attend this ball. Lord Lecter has invited us and that’s the end of it.”

“But why? Don’t you think it’s kind of suspicious?” Brian said. “I mean, he’s Orlesian. What reason has he to help us?”

“Brian… you’re Fereldan is showing again.” Jimmy said, before he began perfuming Will’s face. Against the Wilder’s will, one might add.

Huffing, Brian crossed his arms. “There is no reason for someone like him to help.”

Jack was growing tired of his companions bickering and questioning him every step of the way. So he put his foot down. “We are going. That is it. Jimmy, do you still have those masks from the last one?”

Standing, Jimmy nodded and brushed Will down. “I should have them in the storage unit.”

“Good,” Jack turned and walked to his bed. A room in this tavern cost more than the ideal price, but it provided comfortable beds and unspoilt food. Everything to quieten the other Wardens. At least Will was happy sleeping in the muck of the Dales.

“Jack…” Will’s  falsely rough voice cut through his thoughts. “I should stay here. Me and balls don’t go well together. If I go Lord Lecter would refuse to help.” The Wilder boy moved into the corner of Jack’s eye. “And we need those names.”

Sighing, Jack began pulling clothes from his pack. He found his one set of Orlais clothing. The same he had chosen for his and Bella’s wedding. “Lord Lecter wants all of us to go. It’s rude not to.”

And that was how they had ended up here. Will felt like a boy from the market’s Red Lantern district. His clothes sat strangely and had shiny bits he felt blinded by. The masks didn’t help much, hiding their mouths and forcing eye contact. Luckily for Will, he only had a half-mask.

The nobles were far more garish in their adornments. Many women had tall hairpieces filled with flowers and jewels. The men were… terrifying.

Will found himself a place in the corner nearby the window, overlooking the all too-manicured gardens. That false nature sat wrongly. Still, the flowers were pretty.

“Do you not enjoy the ball?” said a heavily accented man’s voice. All too silky for Will.

Taking a gulp of the wine, Will scoffed. “It’s tasteless.”

“Do you have a problem with taste?”

Will turned his gaze toward the masked man. “This is where the pompous go to have their egos stroked… amongst other things.” Yes, Will was perfectly well aware of the lewd affairs that occurred during such events. 

When Hannibal had first seen the boy he’d known he was Jack’s unintroduced guest. And he was such a rude little boy, but curious. “And you have not.”

“Come to have an affair? No.”

Hannibal gave a soft and false laugh. He did find it amusing the boy made such assumptions, but true laughter was a hard thing to find with Hannibal.

He stepped closer to the Wilder and subtly breathed in. The vile Orlesian crystals barely masked the raw scent of the mana. The boy’s connection to the Fade was certainly strong. “You are with the Grey Wardens.”

Frowning, Will nodded and turned his attention back to the garden. “Partially.” He took a slow gulp of the wine in his hand. He had no appreciation of the stuff, preferring mead.

Hannibal watched William’s lips on the glass and the bob of his Adam’s Apple with the swallow. “And you wish to use Jack to find justice for those girls?”

“It’s a small demand compared to what he’s asking of me…” Will licked his lips and turned to the man. “You’re Lord Lecter?”

“Ah, yes I am guilty of that one trespass, I’m afraid.” Yet the small smirk on the corner of his mouth proved he felt no shame in the charade. But wasn’t that what a masquerade about?

He had expected William to bow his head to him upon revelation, but was surprised to find he merely grunted and wandered off. Hannibal wasn’t sure watching him leave was unpleasant -as it should have been- or pleasant as it seemed to be.

There was feasting and dancing throughout the night. As Beverly had expected, several spies probed. Especially Fredricka. The rogue had plied Brian with more than enough wine to sink a battalion and had gathered plenty of intel on William the Wilder. Yet, all Jack had to do was stomp and she scurried back to whatever shadow she had come from.

At the end of the night, no one had seen Will since his encounter with Lord Lecter.

“I would like to travel with you,” Hannibal said, once he had given Jack the information he had requested and they searched for the boy. “I believe I can help you understand William.”

Jack laughed. “I don’t think so, Hannibal. He might not appreciate the prying. And I can’t protect you.”

“I need none. I have travelled through Thedas and learned how to get by with no mercenary assistance.” Hannibal gave a restrained smile and rubbed Jack’s shoulder. “And the sooner you find this killer, the sooner you’ll return to the Darkspawn threat.”

That was all the convincing Jack needed. “Then I’d be happy to let you join us.” The men shook each other’s hand as if it were a dwarven business deal.

Will appeared a few moments later, his mask propped up on his forehead and a sleepy look on his face. It was clear he had used one of the rooms to sleep or hide… or both. “Are we going now?”

With a look of surrender, Jack turned to Hannibal. “I apologise for Will’s rudeness.”

Hannibal did not turn to the other man as he spoke, simply observing the Wilder’s state of vulnerability. It was not too late in the night and he had disappeared the moment twilight had passed. William had trouble with his sleep. “It cannot be avoided. If one requires sleep, they will sleep. I’d much prefer they did so in my bed than the floor, where anyone may take advantage.”

Will screwed up his face at the easy forgiveness of this Orlesian noble. He couldn’t wait to leave the city and Lord Lecter behind.


	4. His Blood

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow._

_In their blood the Maker's will is written._

_Benedictions 4:11_

 

_Wandering through the trees, the great steed was at his back. Its breath misted against his neck as his feet sunk into the mud. A hollow voice echoed for Will to follow, tempting him further into the Fade. He hated the very air that made this dread place up. Every time it was the same places. But these were cheap mockeries for the places he once treasured. Instead of the sharp sting of branches, he’d feel the caress of demonic fingers against his cheek. Instead of vines tangling around him, it was the many limbs of those very same demons._

_He had once tried to run, but it only made the demons excited. He’d once tried to fight, but he found he was torn asunder. It was only the Halla’s healing spirit that kept him from death. It protected and guided him through the terrors that attacked._

_Reaching a hut, he knocked on its door. There was no one here. There never was… but the Halla always insisted he tried. He knocked the door again. This time a knock was returned on the other side._

Will woke screaming, sweat sticking his hair down and spoiling his bed clothes. Groaning, he stood and washed in the basin of slightly lukewarm water, left over from when –the now absent- Jimmy had washed this morning.

There was another knock.

“I-I’ll be there in a moment,” Will said, as he tried to dress in his new travelling clothes. He slid on the tunic and struggled tying the breeches. He decided the rest of his outfit could wait for after.

He opened the door slowly, expecting to find tavern workers or Beverly at the door. Instead, there was the too-clean face of Lord Lecter. “What do you want?”

“I’ve bought you breakfast,” Hannibal said, lifting a wicker basket in indication.

Will sighed and pulled open the door to let the lord in. As Hannibal settled at the table, serving two plates up, Will turned to continue dressing. “I’m not Orlesian.”

“I know. You are Ferelden, are you not? Born Chasind?” Hannibal pierced some sausages and transferred them to the plates. “I do not see the relevance.”

“We can’t be friends.” He turned to face him and buckled his belt.

Hannibal gave a small, restrained smirk as he sat down. “I am not Orlesian either. Merely raised here.”

Will frowned and seated himself opposite the man. He didn’t really care where Hannibal was from. He pried too much into Will’s life and that was a crime in his book.

“My family have broken the boundaries of racial conflict many a time. My uncle is Orlesian, yet my father Tevinter.” Hannibal smiled and began eating the food. He was all too prim and proper to sit well with Will. It didn’t help that he hated nobility anyway.

Will stabbed the sausage with force and ate it as defiantly as one could eat a sausage. “I don’t trust Tevinters either.”

“Few do.” Hannibal seemed unfazed by the boy’s barrage of discrimination. Of course he was. Hannibal knew two facts about this boy: that he was not sincere in his hatred and that he was very lonely. Hannibal sought to use and rectify both facts.

They ate in silence for the rest of their meal. Will could tell Hannibal was watching him closely. Once he had finished, Will returned to dressing. “What are you doing here?”

Hannibal frowned, as if confused. “I am here to travel with you and your companions. Has Jack not told you?”

“No… he seemed to have omitted that fact.” Will’s tone was bitter and it reflected in the harsh tugs he gave his bracer’s straps. Growling, he threw it across the room. He hated this. Everything about it screamed danger. This journey was going to be his death.

Humming softly, Hannibal moved through the room and picked up the bracer. “You need not worry, William. I merely wish to be a friend. If that is too much, I can accept distanced travelling companions.” He skilfully untangled the straps and uncurled the leather before presenting it for Will to place his arm in.

Sighing, the Wilder put his arm out and watched as Hannibal threaded the straps through their places. It was strange. Intimate. The moment it was done, and Hannibal placed his hand on the leather, Will snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned. “Thank you.”

He turned his attention back to his bed and began packing. The air shifted and he noticed Hannibal had begun aiding him in packing. “We will meet the others in the market. Jack is busy tying up loose ends.”

*******

The White Spire loomed over Jack when he had entered. Now he was inside it was no less imposing. He was guided to the gardens where he was to meet Enchanter Alana.

She was sat amongst the flowers, reading something when he saw her. She looked so unlike other mages here, she could’ve been confused with nobility if it had not been for the staff by her ankle.

“Enchanter Bloom?”

She glanced up and smiled. “Hello, Jack.” Carefully closing the old book, she stood and gathered up her things. “I assume you’re here about the Wilder boy you’ve recruited?”

Frowning in confusion, Jack offered a hand in carrying some things for her.

Alana smiled softly and passed a few books over. “No need to worry, Jack. I heard from Vivienne and Fredrick that you have.” Fredrick had seemed quite excited when he’d given the news. Alana knew that he wished to be the one to catch a Wilder mage. So very few had, or managed to study their magics.

“He’s not yet a Warden.”

“Which is why you must be careful. He’s had no Circle training, and there is nothing assuring you-”

“I know Will. He’ll keep his word.”

“But can _you_?” she said. “There are many Templars out there hunting boys like him every day. Without your official protection, he will fall into their hands. They don’t treat Wilder mages like any other apostate.”

“But he’s not a Witch of the Wilds!”

“I know that. He’s a male, is he not? But the fact of the matter is that it won’t matter to them.” Alana ran idly ran her fingers along the stem of a crystal grace flower.

Jack had always known Alana to be a nurturing woman, but sometimes she made points that sat wrongly with him. It was always a shame that she had been given the one thing that prevented her ever having a family. “I’ll protect him. The others will protect him. Maker! Lord Lecter has offered to protect him.”

Alana turned to him with a soft smile. “If anyone can help Will, Hannibal can. He has experience with mages…”

“You never told me how you know him.”

“I’ve been serving as his uncle’s healer for a while.” Alana regretted returning to the Spire, but she had managed to achieve little but prolong a painful death.

They continued to converse until Beverly appeared and informed Jack that they were all ready and waiting to head out. He left the Spire feeling surer than ever that bringing Hannibal along was for the best. And the seeds of doubt had started to bloom about Will.


	5. Pierced

_The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil_  
_And grew jealous of the life_  
_They could not feel, could not touch._  
_In blackest envy were the demons born._

_Erudition 2:1_

 

The group left Val Royeaux mid morn and hoped to arrive at the latest victim’s village by twilight. Will couldn’t have been more grateful to have the city at his back. He just wished they weren’t accompanied by the prying Lord Lecter, who seemed to have all too strong an interest in him. Of course, no person with a healthy curiosity could avoid _some_ interest in Will. Which was why he felt some guilt in his harshness. Not that he’d show it.

They had been nearing their destination when the air shifted. Like it was torn apart. Each step made sent a piercing through Will. Sweat beaded down his temples and his palms became sticky.

To the outside, he merely looked tired and perhaps sweaty due to the long journey. But he was pale and his curls were limp from the wet. Hannibal could feel how the boy edged closer to him in search of stability. He didn’t mention it, lest he reminded Will of his usual distaste for Hannibal. Instead, he just let the Wilder’s body bump off of Hannibal’s larger one.

It was supposed to be a relief when they all had arrived at the small village, but they found nothing but grief. Will pushed onwards, though, understanding that only his unique eyes would find the girls’ justice. He may’ve disliked people’s company, but he didn’t hate them so readily as to let them suffer.

Jack managed to get some cooperation from the villagers, who guided him, Will and Hannibal to the bedroom of the last girl who was taken. Beverly and the other two men went to the tavern and got them all rooms.

Stood in the girl’s bedroom, Will licked his lips nervously. “I need everyone out… so I can do this.”

Jack simply nodded and ushered everyone to leave. He allowed Hannibal to stand in the doorway to watch Will at work.

Will stood there in the centre of the girl’s room. The piercing had intensified, as if he was being impaled. He slowly closed his eyes and relaxed his mind.

A silver pendulum swung behind his eyes. Back. Forth.

Air whipped up around him, burning cold. Once he had opened his eyes, he was faced with the self-same room. The halla moved in the shadows, the Fade far darker than he’d ever encountered before. Perhaps it was the room’s bleak past, or something else wrong with the Fade as a whole?

And there she was. The girl. She looked so at peace.

“I move around the room as I regard her.” Will stepped around the bed. “Each step I take is silent and sure. No one will hear or see me. Like a spirit, I am not here.”

In one sudden motion, Will jumped onto the bed and pinned the girl. “I kill her with my hands.” He gripped the girl’s throat and forced the air from her small body. “I asphyxiate, forcing the air from her lungs. I am used to this method… but it is not my usual. I reserve this for the girls alone. There is an intimacy I need.”

Before he could break himself from the Fade, he felt the halla drive its antlers straight through him. A searing pain pierced him. Lifted from the bed and up toward the ceiling, he saw the screaming faces in the shadows. His own screams were inaudible. No one could save him now.

Will opened his eyes and found himself bloodied and trembling on the floor. Hannibal was knelt before him, offering a handkerchief. Will’s lip was throbbing, his jaw ached and the taste of copper filled his mouth.

Sitting up with a groan, he refused the kerchief and dabbed his lip with a bare hand. “I-I’m fine.”

Hannibal’s look was not of concern, which was terrifying in itself.  But those eyes… they were too open yet unreadable, much like a book written in a foreign hand.

“Come,” Hannibal said, threading his arm through Will’s. He lifted him off of the floor and guided him out.

The two of them made their way to the inn. However, Hannibal walked past the Jack’s room and went straight onto Will’s and the other Wardens’. “I need to tell Jack-”

“Nothing that cannot wait for tomorrow, I’m sure.” Hannibal opened the bedroom door to find it empty for them. He sat Will on his bed and moved to fill the washbasin.

Will pulled off his bracer and began undoing his boots. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You will find I do, as a decent person.” Hannibal cast a curt smile and moved back toward the bed with the basin and sponges. He placed it down on the floor and moved to pull Will’s tunic off, leaving the breeches.

Will was quite disoriented, and just let him undress him.

Hannibal left the Wilder’s breeches on and folded the rest of the clothing. “Would you like to speak about what happened in the room?”

Staring at the fireplace, Will shrugged. He needed to offload, but he couldn’t. His connection with the Fade was a little secret between him and the spirits there.

Taking the silence as a refusal, Hannibal nodded and filled the sponge with warm and soapy water. He began wiping Will down of the sweat and grime of his nightmarish day. “But, perhaps I may be of help to you. I may offer a fresh set of eyes that yourself, or a veteran like Jack no doubt lack.”  

Will sighed and began chewing his split lip, reopening it. “It’s complicated.”

“No more complicated than the Qun, or the Game, I’m sure.” Hannibal could still sense reluctance. “I promise you, that you are in safe company with me. I will tell no one anything you do not wish me to.” 

“I… you promise?”

“I swear on the Chant.” It was hollow for Hannibal to make such a promise, for he did not believe in the same chant as the southern countries did. After all… he was from Tevinter.

Without that knowledge, Will relaxed and nodded. “When I was in the room, I let myself… enter the Fade.”

Hannibal frowned for a moment, as if deliberating. The boy had managed that without training? Lyrium? Sleep? Interesting.

“I saw the room as it was the night the girl was killed.”

“Not taken?”

Will shook his head. “She’s dead.” He licked his lip, almost cleaning off the blood. “I walked the path of the killer, following their shadow.” What he would not say was the whole truth. For the whole truth made it sound like possession.

Hannibal sat in silence for a few moments before nodding. “I do not advise you tell anyone else about how your ability works. Some, less open minded people may misinterpret the gift’s nature.”

Once Will was cleaned up and dressed in a nightshirt, Hannibal left him alone in his bed. It was strange… he had liked the conversation. He felt the weight lifted from his chest as if freed from a great burden. Falling asleep, he found the halla there. It was waiting to devour him.


End file.
